Reflection
Kalevi Kull, biosemiotician and Professor of Biosemiotics at the University of Tartu, has suggested that nature has an irresistible urge to increase beauty, and only humans are capable of resisting it.
This reflection begins from the same puzzle: why are humans capable of resisting the perfection and beauty of nature, and doing so with such force? How many people notice beauty in the fitting together of natural elements – for example, in a ‘dead’ tree trunk as a habitat, or in birdsong on an April morning? One can presumably stand beside such a trunk for a long time and speak about it – that is, see beauty in diversity – only if one knows and understands that diversity, if one has truly learned it and if the underlying pattern of life, invisible to the eye, is present in one’s inner world. For this reason, it is worth distinguishing once again between education and knowledge. Paraphrasing Kristjan Zobel: we consider a person educated if they take an interest in economics and politics, keep up with cultural events and engage with history. Yet understanding how complex systems of living and non-living nature function, learning to know nature, or taking an interest in how forest soil forms, what birds experience during logging in the nesting season or what role alder stands or willows play in ecosystems are rarely regarded as markers of an educated person.35
Education does not equate to ecological literacy. The article opens at least two directions for further reflection. First, do people possess in-depth knowledge of the living environment and of the environmental impacts of human activity, acknowledging that measuring such knowledge is complex? Second, if they do, is this knowledge structured in their thinking as complex systems or in some other way? Thinking in terms of complex systems requires suspending habitual linear causality and simple cause-and-effect reasoning and instead recognising properties such as feedback loops, time lags, emergence, hierarchy, accumulation, trade-offs, non-linearity, self-organisation and disproportionate effects.
Learning to understand complex systems requires an approach different from conventional instruction. It is a slow process and unlikely to occur without deliberately adapted teaching. The ability to think in terms of complex systems is often acquired by subject specialists, who may not recognise that they have learned differently from others, nor know how to articulate complex systems in ways that distinguish them from everyday reasoning. Otherwise, we tend to attribute to complex systems properties and ‘behaviours’ they do not in fact possess. A future line of inquiry might therefore ask whether individuals who think in terms of complex systems differ from others in environmentally responsible behaviour. Would they form a distinct group in this respect? If this hypothesis were confirmed, it would become possible to draw a clearer distinction between education and ecological literacy and to consider how the latter might be specifically supported.
Umwelt and social practices – which came first? The article postulates that the social practices surrounding us are at least as important in guiding environmentally responsible behaviour as what people know. This is undoubtedly true. It may further be argued that social practices also express our knowledge – what is present in our umwelt and what is absent from it. We do not act in relation to what lies outside our umwelt; we act in relation to what it contains. Social practices and knowledge can therefore be seen as complementary rather than opposing phenomena. From the agent’s perspective, social practices are generally highly functional: behaviour rests on knowledge, but this does not imply knowledge of all possible consequences of one’s actions, including environmental impacts. This raises the question of how social practices might change without people’s own readiness. Can change be expected to occur in a top-down or externally directed manner if individuals do not experience it as meaningful from their own perspective? Meaning – the core of autonomous motivation – is among the strongest predictors of environmentally responsible behaviour. However, meaning cannot arise without some form of knowledge, whether accurate or mistaken, about the phenomenon in question. While it is reasonable to agree that, at a simplified level, many people are informed about environmental problems, the GreenComp framework36 suggests that two further competences may be crucial: the ability to imagine alternative futures and the capacity to act for sustainability – for example, by initiating systemic change and engaging others. Without sustained practice of these skills during schooling, it may be difficult later to move from awareness to transforming social practices. It is telling that the European Union’s environmental education framework has explicitly identified these competences. It is also true that shifts towards environmental responsibility may not be welcomed by certain interest groups.
Being in nature or attuning to nature? Spending time in nature is widely valued in society. Recent research suggests, however, that this may not optimally support a deep connection with nature, which is a precondition for environmental responsibility. A forward-looking implication of the article therefore concerns connectedness with nature and whether education can support it. Few studies37 have examined the connectedness of Estonians – often described as a forest people – with nature. International research increasingly indicates that nature connectedness – identifying oneself as part of nature and perceiving one’s relationship with it in this way – predicts both well-being and environmentally responsible behaviour more strongly than mere nature contact – that is, the extent of exposure to nature. In other words, simply spending time in nature may not generate connection; what matters is what one does there. Studies point to an important distinction between being in nature and actively noticing and appreciating it. The latter predicts stronger connectedness, which in turn predicts well-being and environmental responsibility.38 How much time do Estonians actually spend in nature in daily life and across the seasons, and when they do, what psychological meaning and impact does the specific activity they engage in there carry? Research suggests that taking macro photographs of moss, distinguishing the call of a leaf warbler or seeking out the flower of wild ginger has a different meaning from situations in which nature serves merely as a backdrop or resource and the focus lies elsewhere. Active and attentive noticing of nature, and gratitude towards it, are not externally observable and may not even be discussed, whereas being in nature with a mushroom basket, a disc golf set or skis appears more readily justified. It is therefore pertinent to ask: in what sense do we relate to nature, and do activities undertaken in nature even have the potential to strengthen feelings of connectedness? Environmental education programmes that guide children and young people to focus on and notice nature – such as those developed by Asta Tuusti and colleagues – may represent a step in this direction. It is important to understand that active noticing is not merely the use of the senses, which operate in any environment, but attentive observation involves a conscious decision about what to observe and why, based on prior knowledge. Conscious noticing is the first step that may lead to subsequent processes, such as valuing perceived beauty, interpreting what is seen, and experiencing emotions such as gratitude and admiration.
In conclusion, one can only agree with the authors: education is part of culture and society, not a phenomenon separate from them. It is difficult to imagine sustainable education within an unsustainable society. At the same time, education can serve as a lever for cultural and societal change. An educated person is not necessarily guided by sustainable ways of thinking and acting, but it would be mistaken to infer from this that education hinders sustainability. Education is a necessary but insufficient condition, and examining only these two variables risks drawing misleading conclusions. Among those who are currently advancing the real world towards sustainability – both through individual practices and through steps that support systemic change – individuals with higher education are more likely to be represented. History offers examples of cultures that have consciously and successfully redirected or slowed their development in certain directions. At the level of the individual, self-restraint is likewise conceivable. Decisions to move towards a more sustainable culture have, at times in history – for example, in Japan during the Edo period, when society was far from ideal under a feudal-military dictatorship – also followed from observing and understanding natural processes and the human impacts upon them.
The question is what would lead us most quickly to a collective decision to change course. Research suggests that contemporary education has offered learners relatively few effective practices in this regard. If the education system were to provide daily opportunities to develop even these three capacities – understanding complex systems (including humans as part of them), the ability to imagine and initiate change, and connectedness with nature through active noticing – what kind of society might emerge? Might insights be drawn from cultures that have had the capacity to damage their ecosystems but have not done so?39
